I have today off from work, and I usually shut myself in because I like the oasis of peace and quiet it brings. Outside–on the other side of the window I’ve boarded up for protection from pollution and to minimize the constant urban noises–I can hear the cars creeping by and the horns they sound to alert pedestrians, the old men on their tricycles shouting for recyclables they collect, doors slamming, dogs barking, car alarms whistling, neighbors chatting, and the occasional ecstatic children in the newly-built playground immediately adjacent to my flat. I love the rainy days though, when I can hear the rain fall. Love to listen to rain fall. It’s one of the best things to nap to, or sip tea to, or read to. So entirely relaxing and without any human intervention whatsoever, believe it or not.
Inside, I have my small 40-watt-equivalent reading lamp pointed upward in the far corner of the room, providing an appropriately lazy light for this bedroom/office and its lemon pastel-coloured walls. The electric kettle that boils the water that I use to make the tea that I drink by the liters every day is in this room, in the same corner as the lamp because that’s where the single electrical outlet proudly exists to connect to the plate of spaghetti that is the wires for all of my modern day can’t-live-withouts. Next to the desk where I sit now and against the wall leans my guitar and it is most definitely within arm’s reach. Behind me is the bed with its generously-sized mattress that waits all day for me to feel so inclined as to lounge on it for an hour or two or two and a half or three or possibly 3 and three-quarters. Or whatever.